


can't touch the stars (but for you I'll try)

by elizaham8957



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, I'm still never writing smut, Post Series, Scott and Lydia are Tired, Stiles loves star wars, just pure fluff and star wars references okay there's barely a plot, like... implied smut i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-17 00:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12353340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: The Last Jedi trailer leaves Stiles with alotto say.Scott and Lydia should have seen this coming, probably.





	can't touch the stars (but for you I'll try)

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said on Twitter: This fic is dedicated to my two loves, Star Wars and Stiles in his FBI clothes. 
> 
> I have a lot of feelings about TLJ, clearly. And we all know I'm never gonna stop writing Stydia fluff, so. Stiles, this one's for you. 
> 
> I have SO much work these next couple weeks, so this is compensation for the fact that I won't be writing much. But I'm hoping to finish the Pas de Deux sequel during my study breaks, and then once midterms and co op searches are finished trying to kill me, I'll be back!
> 
> Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoy!

“Lydia, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Glancing up from her textbook, Lydia arched a perfect eyebrow, shooting the boy across from her a look.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“I’m dead serious,” Scott responded, his expression grim. Lydia rolled her eyes, glancing down at her textbook again.

“It’s October, Scott. You should have known this was coming.”

“How should I have known this was coming?”

“This has happened for the past two years now. This is nothing new. Now focus on your homework.”

“Easier said than done,” Scott muttered, turning back to the textbook in front of him as his phone pinged again. And again. And _again._

“Lydia!” he sighed, gesturing to his phone. She almost laughed at his helpless expression.

“Put him on do not disturb,” she suggested, ignoring the new message on her own phone.

“I hate Disney,” Scott grumbled, tucking his phone in his backpack. Lydia gave him a look.

“That is a lie. You hate that Disney bought out Lucasfilm and revived the franchise.”

“Is this what the rest of our lives look like?” he asked, and Lydia almost laughed at the dramatic tone of his voice. Scott was always calm and collected. Seeing him agitated like this was almost amusing. “Do we have to deal with this every fall for the rest of time?”

“Yes, we do, and be thankful you don’t _live_ with him.”

Scott’s eyes went wide in horror. Despite the fact that he spent almost all of his time here, he had an apartment across the hall from them, simply because “the smell of you two being so in love at all times is sickening, guys, seriously,” but Lydia couldn’t even _imagine_ what he would do if he lived with Stiles during Star Wars season.

“There’s a simple solution to his badgering,” Lydia informed Scott, looking away from her grad school work. “And it’s that you could _actually watch Star Wars.”_

“I feel like that would only make it worse,” Scott said, flipping through his notebook.

She shrugged. “You can’t run forever, Scott. One day, he’ll get to you too.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, to me _too?”_ His eyes widened in realization. “No. Lydia. You caved?”

Lydia gave him another look. _“Years_ ago. Who do you think goes to the movies with him?” she asked. Raising her eyebrows, she continued. “I don’t know why you’re so against watching them. They’re pretty good. You’d probably enjoy them.”

“I feel like it’s the principle of the thing, at this point,” Scott admitted. “And it’s not like I have time, with vet school.”

“Fair point,” she said, shrugging. Glancing down at her phone, she fought the urge to roll her eyes again. 31 missed messages from Stiles. This had been going on since the trailer had been released last night— Stiles had promptly watched it seventeen times in a row, talked about it for an hour, and then watched it fourteen more times. Lydia had _finally_ gotten him to actually go to sleep, reminding him he had work in the morning, but he had talked about the upcoming movie this morning from the moment he’d opened his eyes to the moment he’d walked out the door.

The doorknob of their apartment jiggled, and Scott looked up, meeting Lydia’s eyes in horror. “Prepare yourself,” she warned him, before the apartment door opened and Stiles came tumbling in.

“Oh, good, you’re both here,” he said, dropping his bag and pulling his FBI badge off his neck. Quickly, he walked over to the couch, leaning down to kiss Lydia briefly in greeting.

“How was work?” Lydia asked, smiling up at him. Stiles shook his head, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“Inconsequential,” he said, fixing them both with an annoyed glare. “Neither of you answered my texts.”

“We were studying,” Scott defended, his expression apologetic regardless of how much he had complained about Stiles’s Star Wars spam.

“Well, since neither of you bothered to respond, I just bought our tickets and assumed you’d both make it work,” he said, dropping his phone on the couch. “The Last Jedi. December 14th, 8 pm. Yes, that’s right, Scotty,” he said, turning towards his best friend, whose mouth was hanging open in surprise. “This is the year you finally watch Star Wars. I’ve got two months to get you caught up. And then we’ll go see the new one.”

“Stiles—” Lydia started, but he shook his head, his eyes lit up in that way that only really happened when he got to talk about his favorite franchise.

“Nope! No arguing. If you recall my in-depth analysis of the trailer from last night, this movie is going to be _awesome,_ and we are all going. We’re dressing up, of course, too.”

“Dressing _up?”_ Scott asked, his expression growing more and more panicked. Stiles gave him a look that suggested this should have been a given.

“Uh, _obviously,”_ Stiles said. “You’re Luke, Scott, because you both have insane hero complexes. I’m Han, because he also has a deep love of sarcasm, and Lydia is Leia, because she’s a literal princess.” Lydia tried not to laugh at the overwhelmed look on Scott’s face. “Don’t worry, I’ll get all our costumes. This is going to be _awesome,_ guys. Seriously. This is going to be, like, the best day of my _life.”_

Scott looked at him incredulously, the panic partially leaving his face. “Better than the day Lydia said she’d _marry_ you?”

Stiles turned to Lydia, eyes wide, and she almost laughed at the internal debate she could see him going through, like he didn’t know what to say. She glanced down at the engagement ring on her finger— it had only been there for a month, but already it felt like a permanent fixture of her hand. Like it had been there forever.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” she said, grinning, and his shoulders sagged in relief. “I know that you love me almost as much as you love Star Wars.”

“Not true,” he defended, sitting down next to her on the couch, tugging off his tie. “I love you a _little_ bit more than Star Wars.”

Lydia grinned at him as he slouched back against the cushions, stretching his arms out against the back of the couch. Her eyes roamed over him instinctively— god, she _loved_ his work uniform. Tight white button down, dress slacks, those shiny black shoes… it was a _very_ good look on him. He had his sleeves rolled up, too, showing off his forearms, and Lydia could feel her mouth grow dry, staring at his fingers. Stiles grinned at her lazily, like he could tell exactly what she was thinking.

“Guys, you _know_ I can smell your emotions, right?” Scott interjected from across the room, his mouth pulled in a sort-of grimace. Stiles and Lydia both glanced over at him, almost sheepishly.

“Sorry,” they both said, but Scott was already shoving his books into his backpack, unfazed by the lack of apologetic tone behind their words.

“I’m going to go study _alone,”_ he said, standing up and heading for the door. “I’ll see you guys later. Thanks for helping me, Lydia.”

“Anytime,” she offered, watching as Scott left. As soon as the door clicked shut, she turned back to her fiancé.

“Hi,” Stiles said, grinning at her, his eyes light, golden flecks visible in his amber irises.

“Hi,” Lydia offered back, before unceremoniously shoving her textbook aside and climbing into his lap, kissing him fervently.

“Mmm,” Stiles sighed into her mouth, grinning against her lips. His hands were already on her waist, fingers running over the band of her skirt, his thumbs pressing up against the bare skin of her back. She gripped the front of his shirt, not particularly caring that she was wrinkling the fabric. Stiles kissed her back enthusiastically, his teeth scraping her bottom lip, and Lydia groaned as his hands roamed lower, running over her thighs, slipping under the edge of her skirt.

“Lydia,” he said, panting, as they pulled apart for air a moment later. She chased after his lips, still not done with him, and he complied, kissing her again.

“Seriously,” he said, resting his forehead against hers momentarily. She ignored him, moving to kiss along his jawline, lips lingering on his moles. “Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying this _so_ much,” he told her, as her teeth scraped the shell of his ear. “But I still have a lot to say about Star Wars.”

Lydia froze, pulling back so that Stiles could fully appreciate the _extremely_ unamused look she was shooting at him.

“You’re _not_ serious,” she said, eyebrows raised, eyes unimpressed. He looked at her indignantly.

“I haven’t been able to talk about it all day!” he insisted. “It’s been building up, Lydia. I only made it through, like, _half_ of my analysis last night.”

“So let me get this straight,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Right now, you could either have sex with your fiancée— who is wearing your favorite bra, for the record— or you could talk about the _two and a half minute_ trailer for a movie that doesn’t come out for another two months. And you’re choosing the _latter?”_

“Uh, yes?” Stiles said, voice suddenly unsure. She just shook her head, climbing off of his lap and heading into the kitchen, straightening her skirt in the process.

“Are you really wearing that bra?” Stiles asked, following behind her.

“I guess you’ll never know now,” she replied, opening the fridge to get out supplies for dinner. Lydia turned to face him, his cheeks still flushed and eyes still wide, and she took pity on him, smiling softly, overcome with the amount of affection she felt for him. He was such a nerd, but he was _her_ nerd, and she loved him more than she ever would have thought possible.

“Here,” she offered, taking his hand and standing up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Help me make dinner, and tell me everything you want to about Star Wars.”

“Al _right,”_ Stiles said, his face lighting up as he followed her back to the fridge, taking the vegetables she was offering him and grabbing a cutting board. “Okay. So where did I leave off last night?” Lydia stayed silent, knowing he wasn’t really looking for an answer. “Right. _Leia._ If I have to watch Kylo Ren kill not only Han Solo, but _Leia_ too—”

“You’ll walk out of the theater?” Lydia asked, her grin amused as she poured olive oil into a frying pan. Stiles shot her an offended look.

“No, of _course_ not. Don’t be ridiculous. Anyways,” he continued. “I’m hoping Rian Johnson did a better job with her characterization than J.J. Abrams. Don’t get me wrong, I love Force Awakens, but I _still_ have some issues with the way she and Han were portrayed. I hope the new one is more true to their characterization from the original trilogy.”

Lydia stayed silent, as she’d already heard his _extremely_ in-depth discussion on how Leia and Han were mischaracterized in the new movies and books. Seriously. It had been almost two hours long. He had cited sources and everything.

“Also— _Finn_ and _Phasma?_ That battle looks _epic.”_

He continued to talk as they cooked, his analysis so thorough that it carried them through dinner as well. “I’m _already_ against this goddamned Rey and Kylo baiting,” he informed her, popping his last bite of chicken in his mouth. “The only way that I will accept that last scene is if Rey immediately slices off his hand.”

Lydia laughed, standing up and grabbing their plates, moving towards the dishwasher. “That _would_ be funny,” she agreed, smirking at him.

“I mean, it’s the second movie in the trilogy,” he reasoned. “Someone’s gotta lose a hand. This would be the _perfect_ situation.” He shook his head, his rant clearly not over yet. “I don’t understand people who ship Rey and Kylo. Aside from the _considerable_ mental and physical abuse he put her through, they’re definitely related. Rey is either Luke or Leia’s kid, so they’re either siblings or cousins.”

“I don’t have the answers, babe,” she told him, smiling up at him, his expression still perplexed. “Is that everything?”

He glanced down at her, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I mean, I _could_ go on my tangent about how Rey Kenobi is a cool theory, but actually improbable in the context of just the films, but you’ve heard that before. So, I think so,” he admitted, nodding his head slowly. “I think I covered it all.”

“I’m impressed,” she told him, taking his hand and twining their fingers together. “That was a very in-depth analysis.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, preening, and Lydia couldn’t help but giggle at the expression on his face. She took a step closer, rising onto her tiptoes, running her lips against his jawline.

“So,” she said, voice low. “Did you still want to see if I really am wearing that bra?”

Stiles only flailed slightly, to his credit, his eyes going wide. “Uh, _yes._ Is that still on the table?”

Lydia grinned, catlike, taking his hand firmly in hers and tugging him towards their bedroom. “Why don’t you find out?” she suggested, and he eagerly let her pull him along, pushing her up against the wall almost the second they were in the room. His lips were everywhere, his hands burning patterns on her skin through her clothes, and she sighed as he gently sucked at that spot on her neck that he _knew_ made her weak.

His lips were on hers soon after, his arms framing her against the wall. She pulled away from him briefly so that he could pull her top off, and his breath caught as he dropped the article of clothing to the floor, eyes roaming her body hungrily.

“You weren’t kidding about the bra,” he said, voice low and hoarse, but his expression was what Lydia could only describe as reverent. It made her toes curl, filled her chest with warmth, made butterflies flutter in her stomach every single time he looked at her like that.

“Of course not,” she told him, smiling flirtatiously as she glanced up at him through her lashes, fingers starting to work on the buttons of his shirt. His hands found her waist, heavy and warm on her skin, his eyes still glued to her. “I would never lie to you about that.”

“How the hell did I get so friggin’ lucky?” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. Lydia sighed in contentment at the feeling of his lips on hers, thinking the exact same thing.

It wasn’t until later, when both of them were snuggled up together in their bed, that Stiles brought up Star Wars again.

“So,” he said, voice quiet, full of sleepiness and utter contentment. “In case you were wondering— which I know you were— sixty five days until The Last Jedi. Sixty four, technically, because we’re seeing it Thursday.”

“Oh my _god,_ Stiles,” she said, laughing as she buried her head in his chest. “You are _ridiculous.”_

“I know,” he said, grinning before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, his hands still warm on her bare back. “I may be a _little_ obsessed.”

“A little?” she questioned, her voice quietly skeptical. He grinned again, tightening his arms around her.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” he told her. “Especially during Star Wars season.”

“Always,” she assured him, moving her head to meet his eyes. His expression was so soft, his eyes so open, and it made Lydia’s stomach flutter, her heart humming with how wonderful it felt to have Stiles look at her like she was the only thing in the whole world.

“I love you,” Stiles told her, snuggling into her, tangling their legs together. Lydia grinned cheekily, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I know.”


End file.
